


So, Dean is Eating You Out

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, Food Metaphors, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friend, sit back by yourself in a quiet place and put your hands wherever they need to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, Dean is Eating You Out

**Author's Note:**

> Originally from [here](http://apocalypse-patisserie.tumblr.com/post/84488259338/oh-wow-thanks-for-the-mental-image-of-dean-eating-me).
> 
> I do not own the rights to Dean or the show. No harm is intended.

Here’s where I’m gonna take you:  
Back to your place.

Luckily you don’t have to live with anyone, it’s a quiet night, your house is all in order, you had a great dinner, and you have company coming over.

When Dean arrives, he’s not had dinner.  
He’s hungry.

He looks at you that way, too, like he’s thirsty as fuck. Like the familiar peck on the lips you exchanged in greeting was a teasing little taste. Like the kisses he seeks from you now are nothing but an amuse-bouche, a bite at a time but not a meal. Delectable, but not filling.

Dean asks if it’s alright, if he can taste all over your body, if it’s alright if he touches at will. Because he likes to hear you say that it’s what you want. He likes to know that you have a taste for it, too.

And soothes your body with every touch, takes away your clothes like he’s powering steadily, diligently through the prep work, getting the temperature right, getting things simmering. Thickening the jous.

He’s concentrating, he’s reading you.

And when you’re like,  _fuck_ , just  _touch_  me already, he settles you back in the couch, because you didn’t even make it down the hall. He climbs between your thighs and sinks his teeth in lightly, below your hip, then he dips his head. Breathes over you, exhaling a tempting, damp breath, inhaling the bouquet of this wine, of you, of what he’s about to indulge in. He wants you to say you want it one more time, though, that you want him.

You want him, just a simple, emphatic,  _Yes_.

He goes to town. Positively dines on you. Works his jaw into you, sucks, laps. Like eating a mango, you know. And just as sweet, as fresh. He’s not in a hurry. Dean wants to push you over and catch you so he can push you over again. He’s wrapped all around your thighs and waist. His knees losing grip in the cushions while he’s trying to reach more of you. He’ll slide his hand up over your sides, to your breasts and pull his palm down your arm, to your hand, Takes your hand and gives you something to grip on, your fingers digging into his hair as you just ease into it. As you just lay back and feel. Lay back and shout.

When your knees shake, he kneads the muscles of your thighs briefly before pulling your legs over his shoulders.

Dean settles in and moves his hands to palm you, calm you temporarily, and then sets in again after he hears you tell him he’s allowed to give you more.

He’s got a lot more work to do.


End file.
